Injustice
by rosa lunae
Summary: Captain Cragen's thoughts on justice as a risky hostage situation threatens to turn sour for Elliot and Olivia. Oneshot.


Injustice

by rosa lunae

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The New York air was chilling. The bite of the wind could cut into my chest even through the bulletproof vest, stinging as I sucked in the cold air erratically.

"Captain Cragen."

I turned. It was the negotiator. She shook her head tersely when my eyes went to her phone. "He won't agree to any terms. He says he'll shoot the girl if anyone comes in, except…"

My eyes widened. "Except?"

The negotiator took a deep breath, pulling her coat tighter. Her eyes flitted towards the Enter Team, where Olivia and Elliot were softly barking out orders to the SWAT guys, prepping them on the layout of the warehouse, the suspect, and his hostage.

"He's asking for Benson and Stabler."

This time the cold chill that shot up my back had nothing to do with the weather.

"This is bad, isn't it?" the negotiator whispered.

"Yeah," I responded sharply. "Very bad."

We knew Drew Watson was in there. An officer investigating the amber alert for Chelsea Lark had radioed in with the location of Watson's vehicle. And he'd answered the phone when the negotiators contacted him.

It would be murder to send Olivia and Elliot in there. They were lead on Watson's case. Cases. They were the ones to put him behind bars for rape and child molestation the first time around, and when he escaped from prison, they were the ones to find him. And Watson knew it, because he'd seen them. He'd gotten away when they found him, leaving Elliot with a black eye, but this time, he was trapped. And men pushed into corners turn into animals, bound by the instinct to survive, no matter the cost. Chelsea was his former victim- her testimony and Benson and Stabler's cunning detective work had put him in jail.

His vendetta against the two of them and Chelsea Lark was both real and deadly. But Chelsea was only 14. She'd been only 9 when he'd abused her. She was their top priority.

I didn't like it at all. Olivia and Elliot were like my daughter and son. However, because of that, I trust them. I'd trust them with my life should it come to that, and I could trust them with Chelsea's life.

I might not trust Watson with their lives, but they were good cops. And there were snipers all over the place. SWAT would be just outside the door.

Sometimes, I hate my job.

"Olivia! Elliot!" I called loudly. Their heads turned sharply, simultaneously. I jerked my head for them to come over.

They ran.

"Yeah, Cap?" Olivia asked, not even winded. Elliot stood by her side.

I took a deep breath. "He's asking for you two."

The response was almost instant. "We'll go." Elliot said solemnly, strongly. Olivia nodded, crossing her arms over her thick vest.

"You guys know that if you can get him to let Chelsea out he's got no reason not to kill you."

Olivia wasn't afraid. She didn't look anything. Maybe annoyed. "We know, Captain. But as soon as Chelsea is out, there's also nothing from stopping the rest of the NYPD from coming in. Or the snipers from taking him out. We know what to do."

That was true. They'd both handled hostage situations. Olivia had a few more under her belt than Elliot…she'd been the hostage in a few as well.

I tried to convey to them what I was feeling through my eyes. I had no words. I held their gaze for a long moment, then let go, glancing at the warehouse, imagining the terrified girl inside.

"All right, Munch and Fin will take your places at the head of the Enter Team. They have radios, so do I. You guys make the calls. Go brief Munch and Fin and the head of SWAT while we let Watson know you're coming."

I turned to the negotiator. She was young, but she was good at her job. This was the first one I'd seen her blow. "Lynn, get Watson back on the phone. Tell him…" My voice faltered just a little. I didn't care. "Tell him Benson and Stabler are coming in alone."

Lynn nodded quickly, eyes wide. I could see the guilt forming in her eyes as she dialed; I was well acquainted with that particular emotion.

"Hey," I said softly, eyes on Olivia and Elliot as she dialed, "You did your job. Now they'll do theirs."

She nodded, then began to speak to Watson, her voice calm and collected. In effort to keep him calm and collected.

Munch and Fin looked startled when Olivia and Elliot approached them. Munch began to protest, his arm movements jerky and agitated. Fin looked skeptical. But when Olivia jerked her head in my direction, the two men resigned themselves to the situation and moved to the head of the Enter Team.

It was freezing outside, but when Olivia and Elliot knocked on the door, I wasn't cold at all. I couldn't feel anything. Nothing but fear.

A masculine arm shot through the crack in the door and yanked Olivia in. Elliot's eyes widened, and he blew through the door behind her. It was slammed shut; the bang reverberated across the dead winter air.

Olivia's voice came quickly over the radio. "10-23."

Standby.

I breathed a quick sigh. She sounded calm.

The seconds passed like hours. I got out binoculars and focused them on the window. A shelf obstructed half of my view, but I could see all four people. Facing the window was Watson, with a terrified Chelsea in his grip. A gun was shoved against her temple. He was talking fast, and his legs twitched.

Olivia and Elliot had their backs to me. Both had radios in their hands, which were held in the air. But I noticed that they had radios in their left hands, and both had guns at their backs, out of Watson's view.

Heart pounding, I asked the officer nearest me if the snipers had a shot. He relayed the message. A moment later, he returned, and gave four negatives. I cursed.

What I wouldn't give for an audio feed. I was dying to know what they were saying.

After 10 more agonizingly slow minutes, Elliot's voice, calm but alert, sounded over the radio.

"Chelsea is coming out. I repeat, the girl is coming out the front door."

A second later, a girl was pushed out of the door and into a waiting officer's arms. I didn't even have time to wonder how they got him to let Chelsea go because all hell broke loose.

Olivia and Elliot both grabbed their guns. Their simultaneous order to freeze could be heard from outside the warehouse. At the door, Munch and Fin tensed, and Fin lifted a waiting hand in motion to the officers holding the battering ram.

I couldn't see them.

When the first shot sounded, my heart jumped into my throat, and the enter team, led by Munch and Fin, burst into the building. Two more shots sounded, and then chaos.

I clutched my radio for dear life as time seemed to slow. I could only watch as the scene unfolded and my heart fought against my ribcage.

An ambiguous officer called over the radio, "11-41," the request for an ambulance, followed by their location.

I began to run towards the door to the warehouse, hoping someone had gotten a piece of Watson. Another reported, "10-15, prisoner in custody."

It wasn't until I heard Fin scream over the radio that I realized something had gone wrong. And the code that no cop ever wants to hear boomed through the static and the foreign panic in Fin's voice.

"11-99! 11-99! Officer down, officer down!"

I dropped my radio. And I ran into that warehouse, shoving SWAT guys to the ground to clear a path. I passed two SWAT officers fighting with a bleeding Watson without a second glance.

Finally, after I bellowed, "Get out of my way!" the crowd parted and allowed me through.

It could have been anyone. Any one of the officers could have been hit. But by the sallow tone of Fin's voice, I'd already known.

Elliot was on his knees, clutching tightly to a gunshot wound in his arm. Fin supported him, keeping him steady as he leaned over Olivia, shock, grief, guilt, and pain glowing in his wide eyes.

I threw myself onto the ground beside her, my eyes instantly latching on to the bloody hole in her left shoulder, just outside the vest. I put my right palm on top of my left hand and laced my fingers, then put pressure on the wound, stopping the blood and Munch continued his frantic CPR.

As John put his pale lips over Olivia's to pump air into her lungs, time seemed to slow. As I felt Olivia's blood trying to seep through my fingers, I noticed Elliot.

He was watching anxiously, but something protective, something feral flashed in his eyes when Munch's lips touched Olivia's, even despite the situation. But when John ripped off her bulletproof vest and pumped her chest once more, and she sucked in a shocked breath as her eyes fluttered open, nothing but sheer relief and joy filled his blue irises. He sagged against Fin's solid chest, but his eyes were alert and trained on Olivia.

After the instant of fear had passed, I found all four of them looking at me.

Sometimes, I feel I can't possibly tell these four people what to do. I should be listening to them. Following their orders. But yet, despite my secret insecurities, they were looking to me for reassurance, direction, affirmation. And even though I have no idea why they look for those things from me, I always give them the best that I can.

"Good job, all of you," I said, trying to force strength into my voice. "Chelsea is safe."

Honestly, I didn't give a damn about Chelsea Lark at the moment. I know how bad that sounds. But what I cared about, the only things I cared about since my wife surrounded me in that moment, two of them bleeding. But I knew they didn't want me to carry on about their sacrifice or ask them over and over if they were all okay or baby them at all. They cared about the job, and they cared about the vic. So I gave them what they wanted.

"And Watson is on his way to Rikers for a meeting with justice."

They cared about justice. I knew because when I said that, all four of them grinned, even Elliot who obviously wanted to kill something, and even Olivia who looked like she was in enough pain to pale a woman in labor. And Munch and Fin cared about justice, almost as much as they cared about their colleagues.

Sometimes, I don't care about justice. I just care about them.

But as the same look of fierce, primal protectiveness lit Elliot's eyes as the paramedics helped Olivia into a stretcher, and the red lights from the bus glittered off his bloody wedding band, I realized that those who serve justice are almost never returned the favor.


End file.
